


The Calling

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:08:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim worries about Blair's unusual behavior during a particularly horrific case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Calling

## The Calling

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

Disclaimer: Not mine. 

Summary: Jim is concerned about Blair's odd behavior during a particularly horrific case. 

Notes: This story survived zine limbo for almost three years. Though originally intended for SCARED SENSELESS 2, it was published in COME TO YOUR SENSES 17 by Mysti Frank instead. 

Warnings: This contains m/m sex and some serious angst. 

* * *

The Calling  
by Grey 

Distracted from driving, Jim glanced over at his sleeping companion, his frown deepening as he heard yet another moan and saw the fretful movements. A sudden jerk brought Blair sitting straight up. "Shit!" 

"Settle down. What's going on?" He put out a restraining hand to hold back the sudden lurch forward. 

"Oh, man." Wiping his face with both hands, the younger man worked to slow his breathing. "What's going on? Where are we?" 

"We're on our way home." Watching his friend struggle at simple breathing chilled him. "You fell asleep. You okay?" 

Swallowing several times before answering, Blair closed his eyes as he leaned his head against cool glass. "I'm fine. I just had a bad dream." 

"About what?" 

"Don't remember." The words slurred on his half-used tongue, not fully formed or solid. 

"Then how do you know it was bad?" 

Blair opened his eyes and stared, his mouth curled in a weak smile. "Well, if it wasn't, I wasted this pair of clean underwear for nothing, man." 

Not happy at his friend's attempt at diversionary humor, he shook his head. "You've been dead on your feet for days now. What's going on?" 

"Nothing I can think of." 

"Think harder. You barely sleep and when you do, you're up again in no time. Everything okay at school?" 

"Sure." 

"This has been a pretty rough case. Are you okay with it? The files are bad enough, but you've been to both crime scenes in less than a week." 

"Stop with the third degree, Jim. I'm fine. I can handle it. No big deal." 

Jim steered into the space in front of their building and parked. Before Blair could get out, he touched his friend's arm. "Listen, this case would shake even old-timers. You'd tell me if you needed a break from it, right?" 

"Sure, man." Pulling away, Blair snatched up his backpack and opened the door. "Look, I'm okay, just a little tired, that's all. Now, I've got a ton of work to do before I can go to bed tonight, so I need to get started." Glancing over impatiently, his energy again on high, he snapped, "You coming or what?" 

"Right behind you, Chief." 

"Hey, you want some spaghetti tonight? Lena down in records gave me this really great recipe. It's a little heavy on the garlic with a little fennel, but it looks like it'd be very cool." 

"I thought you had a lot of work to do?" Jim held open the door to their lobby as his partner walked on through. 

"I do, but we've got to eat, and well, for some reason I've got this incredible craving for garlic lately." 

"Garlic?" Jim wrinkled his nose. "You know how that stuff kills my sinuses." 

"I know, but you could dial down and besides, garlic's great for high blood pressure and your heart." 

"My heart's fine and when you're not driving me crazy, my blood pressure's okay, too." Getting on the elevator, Jim studied the pale features, the dark circles under his eyes like bruises in the dim light. Dancing from foot to foot, Blair watched the slow lights going up. 

"Would you stop that." 

"Stop what?" 

"How can you have so much energy when you're so tired?" 

Shaking his head, Blair just shrugged. "Sorry, man. I'm just really wired for some reason. I can't figure it out. It's like my whole body's being pumped all the time these days. Well, almost all the time." 

As the reached the third floor, Jim pulled out his keys while they talked. "Yeah, I saw that. Like when you fell asleep in the truck. You were out almost before I started the engine." 

"Yeah, weird, huh? One minute I'm going full ahead, and then bam, I'm exhausted. It's funny though." 

"What?" Pushing open the door, he turned on the light while Blair followed him in. Hanging up his jacket, he continued to monitor his friend's racing vital signs. 

"Well, when I do fall asleep, I don't feel rested when I wake up. If anything, I'm more tired." He dropped his backpack on the floor and opened the refrigerator. Pulling out a beer, he uncapped it and drank a long swallow. "The funny thing is that I know I've been dreaming, but I can't really remember about what. Just bits and pieces." 

"Like in the truck." 

"Yeah." Taking a long slow breath, he walked over to the window and leaned against the wall, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other one holding the bottle. 

"Blair?" 

"What?" 

Jim focused in on the muscles both in the arms and across the torso as he realized his guide's whole body vibrated with nervous energy. "You're shaking." 

"Oh, man, I don't feel so good." Putting the bottle on the table, he raced past Jim to the restroom and slammed the door. Only seconds later retching sounds followed by obvious vomiting filled the loft, the stench of bile adding weight to the air. 

After a short silence, Jim knocked lightly on the door. "You okay in there?" 

"Give me a minute, man. I'll be all right." 

While he waited, Jim took Blair's beer and emptied it down the drain. The backpack went into his friend's bedroom while he started boiling water for peppermint tea. One didn't live with a Sandburg very long without eventually picking up a few tidbits about home remedies. 

Just as the water started to bubble around the edges, a very peaked guide entered the kitchen. "Promise me you'll stop me if I ever decide to eat a Mr. Tube Steak with the works again, man. I am so not into reruns." 

"Go sit down and I'll bring you some tea to settle your stomach." 

"Where's my beer?" 

"You don't need a beer. After you drink this, you're going to bed for awhile." 

Blair crossed his arms, his face determined. "Jim, don't start with all that. It's just indigestion. I mean, I appreciate you trying to take care of me, but I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself." 

"Yeah? Couldn't prove it to look at you lately. Now, go sit down." 

"I need to fix dinner and grade all those papers." 

"I'm fixing dinner and the papers can wait. Now, sit down like I told you." 

Shrugging, Blair slumped down at the table, his body resting against the wooden edge. "God, I hate it when you get like this." 

"Like what?" Jim poured the boiling water over the tea and then waited, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the counter watching his friend. 

"All bossy like you know what's best for me, like I'm some kind of kid who has to be cared for. If I didn't feel like shit, I'd really be pissed and kick your ass." 

Jim smiled as he got down the mug, his imagination running with the vision of his friend in a fury. "Yeah, well, when you get some sleep, I'll start to get worried. Now, do you want chicken or potato soup for supper?" 

"I want spaghetti with garlic." 

"Nope. Too spicy. Maybe tomorrow." 

"Jim, this isn't funny anymore, man." 

"I'm not trying to be funny. I'm trying to save you from another round in the bathroom. I hate to tell you this, Chief, but the toilet won that last match." 

Grimacing at the memory, Blair rested his head on his upraised hands, his eyes sad and not quite focused. "You know, there's this side of you that really gets to me sometimes." 

After pouring the filtered tea into his partner's favorite Peruvian mug, Jim carried it along with the matching pot to the table. Sitting across from his friend, he settled in. "What side's that?" 

"This super protective side. I mean, it makes me feel all conflicted." 

"Conflicted?" 

"Yeah, like I hate being bossed around, but then I also understand why you do it. You're a sentinel and you want to take care of me because I'm your guide. I appreciate that. It's just that sometimes, well, sometimes, I'm not sure how I feel about it." 

"So, you're saying it bothers you that I want to take care of you when you're sick?" 

"No, it's not that. It's like you don't always think I can take care of myself, like you don't trust me enough." He took a few sips of the tea, and then blew lightly over the steamy liquid, avoiding Jim's eyes. 

"I trust you with my life, Blair. You know that. I don't understand why it bothers you to let me take care of you sometimes. You don't hesitate to do it for me. You're always coming up with all kinds of remedies for me and my problems. Why's it so tough to accept the same thing?" 

Pouring himself another portion of tea, Blair nodded. "It shouldn't be, but it is." The confession came with a serious drain of energy as the younger man rubbed his temples. "I guess I'm more tired than I thought. I think I'm going to lie down awhile before dinner. My head's pounding all of a sudden." 

"Want some aspirin?" 

"If it's not better when I get up, yeah, maybe." He put down the tea and stood up. "Thanks, Jim." 

"No problem. I'll wake you when the soup's ready." 

Closing his bedroom door didn't stop Jim from hearing the familiar unzipping and unbuttoning sounds of disrobing, the plop of shoes by the bedside. The rustle of skin against sheets tingled and weighted his groin. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pushed away his own vision of his naked partner stretched out before him, thighs spread, the round ass smooth and ready. 

"Chief, you'd better appreciate this." He reached for his jacket as he set off to the nearby Italian restaurant to get their best spaghetti with extra garlic bread. At least he could feed his friend's hunger and save himself the embarrassment of revealing his own miserable starvation. 

* * *

Juggling the sacks filled with hot tins, Jim worked at getting the door open. Finally inside, he put the bags on the table and stood stunned when he saw his partner. 

"Chief?" When he got no reaction, he stepped to the balcony door and spoke again, his voice tight against the crisp air. "What's going on, Chief? Come on back inside. It's cold out here." 

Blair stood in his boxers leaning against the railing, his face slack, his eyes staring out to the night. Light mist chilled the thinning November dark, the wind picking up speed from the approaching storm. Putting a hand on each shoulder, Jim turned his friend back toward the doorway and once inside, guided him to the sofa. Blair sat stiffly, not moving, his eyes focused off in the distance. Wrapping his shoulders with the blanket, Jim scooted beside him and rubbed up and down the arms, the cold skin in need of warming. "Jesus, Chief, what's going on here?" 

Eyes fluttered a few times before the young body relaxed and slumped forward, the fall stopped only by Jim's strong catch. 

"Shit." The larger man stood up and lifted the limp body enough to get him situated safely, his head supported on the armrest. 

A quick groan and struggle started as Blair suddenly jerked up. Grabbing his forehead with one hand, he steadied himself with the other before he finally opened his eyes and focused. "Jim? What's going on, man? How'd I get here?" 

"Good questions, but I was hoping you could tell me." 

"Oh, man, my head." An involuntary shudder shook him as he pulled up the blanket. "I'm freezing. Is it too soon to turn on the furnace?" 

"The furnace is already on, Chief. I think we need a doctor." 

"What?" Glancing up, Blair opened the blanket and took a quick peek. He closed the cover and his eyes at the same time. "Tell me I wasn't sleepwalking or something really embarrassing." 

"Sleepwalking? Since when do you sleepwalk?" 

"I don't." 

"So why were you standing outside in your underwear freezing your ass off?" 

Sheepish, Blair's face scrunched up as he rubbed his temple. "I have no idea, but I dreamed I was looking for something." 

"What?" 

"I don't know, but I was standing on this cliff and I couldn't go any further without falling. It was storming and there were these screams." Another shiver brought his knees to his chin as he gripped the edge of the blanket. "Oh, man, it was awful. You know how I hate heights." 

"It's okay. It was just a dream." Jim put his hand on his partner's shoulder, the tense muscles fighting back against his palm. 

"I know, but it seemed so real, man, and there was this one voice calling my name over and over, but I couldn't figure out who she was or what she was saying." 

"You heard a woman in your dream?" 

"Yeah." Lowering his chin to rest on his knees, Blair shook his head. "Man, this really sucks. I'd rather not remember if this is why I'm so fucked up lately." 

"How long has this been going on?" 

"A couple of weeks, but this is the first time I've been able to remember anything. I usually just wake up freezing and exhausted." 

"No wonder. Taking field trips while you're sleeping will do that. Where else have you been waking up besides your bed?" 

"No place, man." The answer came too quickly, the word's too skittish to hold the truth. 

Pulling away, Blair turned and swung his bare legs over the couch edge. Before he could stand up, Jim's hand stopped him. "Chief, you knew you'd been sleepwalking, so this isn't the first time. Tell me. Trust me that much." 

"It's crazy, man." 

"So's seeing a panther in your bedroom, but you believed me when I told you. Tell me what's been happening." 

Settling back into the corner of the sofa, Blair averted his eyes and talked very slowly. "As far as I know, it's only happened three times not counting this one. The first two times I fell asleep at the university in my office. I woke up going across campus." 

"Where were you going?" 

"I have no idea. It was really spooky. One minute I was in my office working and the next I was walking along with a student who was asking me if I was okay." 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

"I was afraid you'd overreact, but I have to tell you, man, I'm a little creeped out by all this anyway, so if you want to overreact a little, I'll join you." 

"What about the third time?" 

"Third time?" 

"Yeah, you said there were three times." 

The subtle blush grew deeper as Blair swallowed hard. "I was standing at the end of your bed watching you sleep. You must have been really out of it because I can't imagine you not hearing me, especially when I woke up and started hyperventilating." 

"I wonder why I didn't wake up." 

"I don't know, but I'm glad you didn't." 

"Why?" 

"Because it's a little embarrassing to wake up naked at the end of your roommate's bed and not remember how you got there." 

"You were naked?" The erotic image of Blair's bare body leaped and played havoc with Jim's imagination, making it impossible to control the rising heat across his skin, the flush near burning. 

"Yeah, but don't ask me why. I mean, I don't usually sleep naked, but there I was with no idea what the hell was going on. Anyway, I drank about a pot of coffee and stayed awake for the rest of the night." 

"I remember. That was last Tuesday." 

"Yeah. How'd you know that?" 

"Because you were so wired, I thought I'd duct tape you to the chair before breakfast." 

"Wow, that's an image I could do without." 

"So, why didn't you tell me?" 

Blair sat quietly for a few moments before he finally spoke, his words almost airy. "To tell the truth, by the time you got up, I couldn't remember why I was so upset. I mean, I knew something happened, but it was like this big blank screen, this huge cloud of free floating anxiety just sort of chilling me all over. I only remembered when you just asked me about it." Meeting Jim's eyes, the fear darkened the blue to velvet. "I think I'm beginning to figure out just how scary this repression thing must be for you, Jim. It's kind of eerie knowing time's passed, but not knowing what happened." 

Jim stood up and walked to the window, his jaw clenching, his concern coiling his muscles into aches across his shoulders. "This is really starting to worry me. I thought it might just be flu or something to do with this case, but this is way over the top for that. Maybe it's a delayed stress reaction to something. I mean, you've had some pretty intense times the last few years. Maybe this is your way of telling yourself to do something about dealing with it." 

"But do what, man? Jump off a cliff?" 

"No, but maybe that represents a decision about where you're going or what you want to do. Then again, it could be as simple as you just need a really good night's sleep without the added exercise of walking around in a daze. I'm not a doctor, but something's obviously not right." 

"What are you saying? You think I'm going nuts?" 

"No, I think you're going to go tomorrow to see the shrink and find out what you need to do to keep you from going that far." 

"No way, man. It's just a little sleep disorder. I've gone through stuff like this before. It usually only lasts a few weeks and then it's over. No big deal." 

"This has happened before?" 

"When I was a kid, and then again when I started college. It should be about over. I can handle it." 

"Handle it? Blair, you didn't see yourself when I got here. Hell, you didn't even know I was here. You could've been hurt." 

"Hurt? How? Sure, I got a little cold, but it wasn't like I was running through traffic. Lighten up, man." 

"You're going to see the shrink first thing tomorrow." He stood there, arms crossed, teeth grinding, the decision final. 

"Forget about it, Jim. That is so not happening." Before the older man could say anything else, Blair stood up and put up his hand. "I'm not even going to argue about it. And don't think about playing any power games about this, either. You might push me around when it comes to police work, but you are not running my life here, so just back off." 

Startled by his friend's vehement reaction, Jim took a long calming breath and studied the stubborn set of the familiar features. "Nobody likes to go the shrink, Sandburg, but sometimes we need to. I'm just worried, that's all." 

Blair snorted as he pulled the cover up and around his shoulders. "That's rich coming from you, Jim." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"You know what it means. If there's one person in this room who should be seeing a shrink, it's not the grad student in the blanket, so, don't bother giving me lectures on what I need." 

Biting his lower lip, his temper barely contained, Jim surrendered the fight for the moment. "Enough with the personal attacks, Chief. We'll talk about this later. But, you need to promise me to do something if this keeps up. We've both been under a lot of stress lately. Let's not make it worse by fighting about it." 

The anger gone, Blair nodded while he spoke. "Okay, but I'm fine. Really." 

He walked over to the table and sniffed the air. "Garlic?" 

"Yeah. I went to the Piazzari's around the corner. I thought if you were feeling better, you could have your dinner without having to fix it." 

"Thanks, man. God, I'm seriously famished. Let me put some clothes on. I'll be right back." 

"I'll heat this stuff up while you're getting dressed." 

"Cool. I'll be out in a minute. I wonder what the hell I did with my clothes." 

As Blair closed his door, Jim shook his head, the worry about his partner's strange behavior spinning elaborate worst case scenarios in his mind. In typical Ellison tradition, not a single one had a happy ending. 

* * *

"So, what do we know so far?" 

"That we've got plenty of physical evidence, but no leads on who this guy actually is." Jim rubbed his forehead again, the pain pounding even harder, spikes at his temples adding only torturous variety to the rhythm. 

"We know more than that, Jim. We know the guy's crazy and liable to strike again either today or tonight if the pattern holds." 

"I know. That's what worries me. The two murders happened a week apart, first Watson, then Henries. We still don't have a motive or a connection. It's a little hard to make a prediction without more to go on." Leaning back in his chair, his eyes still squinted from the too bright lights, Jim words ached with frustration. "I mean, how am I supposed to figure anything out with nothing to tie these guys together? One worked for Davis's cosmetics and the other owned his own audio labs. As far as we know they never met, didn't have friends or activities in common. About the only similarity besides the way they were butchered, is that they were both loners. There's been no match with prints or with the DNA on the semen samples collected." 

Simon poured himself another cup of coffee and sipped it quietly a few moments. "I hate to say this, but a third murder is pretty likely." 

"I know." Scanning back through the photos of the mutilated corpses, Jim cringed once again at the ghastly full color depiction of dismembered men, one his ears cut off, the other his nose and tongue sliced away. "We have to catch this guy, sir, but I'm at a loss at how to do it. The FBI has no record of any serial killers with this MO. He's new and he's hungry. He's not going to stop now." 

"Jim, are you okay? You keep holding your head like it's going to explode any minute." 

"I've got a headache. Didn't sleep much. I took some aspirin, but nothing fazes it." 

"Well, you look like shit. We're not getting anywhere here right now. Why don't you take a break and then go check and see if forensics has anymore on those clothes?" Simon paused for a moment longer before he added, "How's Sandburg dealing with all this? He hasn't been looking that great either and he's not here this morning." 

"He had a meeting at the university with another grad student about some project the kid's thinking about doing." 

"Like he doesn't have enough to keep himself busy?" 

"Tell me about it. He's running on fumes as it is." His memory twinged at recalling his friend's cold body from the night before. "Simon, what do you know about sleepwalking?" 

"Sleepwalking? Not much, why?" 

"It's Blair. He's been having these episodes. We've been living together for close to three years now and this is the first time it's ever happened, but it bothers me. He's been having nightmares, too. I can't figure out what's going on with him and he refuses to see anyone about it." 

"This case gives me bad dreams, too. I can imagine the kid would be rattled." 

Jim shook his head, his focus on images of his friend standing unresponsive, empty eyes staring out into space. "I don't think it's this case. It's something else, something worse. I just have this really bad feeling about it." 

"You think he's in some kind of danger?" 

"I don't know. Maybe. When I suggested he see a doctor, he about took my head off. Said between the two of us, he wasn't the one who needed to see a shrink." 

The deep chuckle brought Jim's eyes to his captain's. "You have to admit, it's sort of like the kettle calling the pot black, Jim. How many times has he tried to get you to see someone about how you repress entire chunks of your memory, and you blew him off? A few bad dreams don't really compare to that kind of baggage. Besides, he'll work it out. Don't tell him I said this, but once you get past his weird ways, he's really kind of stable." 

Frowning, closing in on pissed, Jim tilted his head. "You mean stable compared to me, right?" 

"I didn't say that. I just meant not to worry so much. As for the sleepwalking, from what I know, it's usually not too dangerous unless he's walking off a building or something." 

"He was on the balcony in his boxers last night, Captain. He had no idea what was going on when I dragged him back inside." 

Simon leaned back, his smile gone. "Really? Well, all I can say is we'll just try to keep an eye on him and hope whatever's bothering him clears up. I mean, if it were really serious, he'd tell you, right?" 

"I hope so, but sometimes, he has a tendency to hide the really important things for some reason, sort of like he doesn't want to bother me." 

"Or like he wants to work it out for himself, sort of like a certain detective I know?" 

"Yeah, well, maybe." Sighing heavily, Jim stood up and tapped the file on the desk a few times. "I guess, I'll check in forensics. I'll let you know if I find anything." 

Finishing the last of his coffee before nodding, Simon raised his cigar. "Just try not to worry so much, Jim. The kid's fine. It's just a little stress. I mean, this case is a bitch and a half. Now, go take some more aspirin and let's get busy finding this guy. I don't want to have to see another corpse like that in my city." 

"I hear you, Captain." 

And so did Arnold Swain sitting downstairs in the lobby of the Cascade PD as he waited patiently to make a complaint against his noisy neighbor. Glad the sentinel finally walked alone and unguarded, he smiled, thinking enhanced senses made it so much easier to find the right people to kill. 

* * *

"Jim!" Blair Sandburg jerked awake and snatched up the phone from his desk, fumbling at the receiver. Hitting speed dial, he tried Jim's number, but got a busy signal. He tried twice more before hitting Simon's exchange instead. 

"Simon Banks here." 

"Simon, it's Blair. Where's Jim?" 

"Slow down, Sandburg. What's going on?" 

Running his hand back over his curls, Blair shook his head. "I don't have time to explain, Simon. Just find Jim and don't let him go out alone. I don't care what kind of calls come in, don't let him go alone. Understand?" 

"Shit." 

"What?" 

"We just got a call about a third murder. Jim's on his way to the site now. I was on my way out the door." 

Shaking, his insides washed in an adrenaline rush he couldn't explain, his words raced. "You've got to get to him, Simon. Where's the body? I'll meet you there." 

"Out on Saunder's pier, slip 77. Blair, this is a rough one, worse than the others. You don't have to be there." 

"You don't understand, Simon. Jim's in danger. I'm talking serious danger. Get there as fast as you can and I'm right behind you." 

"You've got it." 

As the phone clicked off, Blair grabbed his backpack and stood up to leave. A wave of nausea slammed him back, his stomach knotting in protest as a swarm of oily colors settled over his deepest tissues, his brain doing a sudden contraction inside his skull. Falling to his knees, he held his head, an agony caging his every thought. The rocking soon turned to spinning as he dropped into a blackness so cold his skin froze against icy bones. 

Lying there, the crash of waves below the cliff's edge scared him, scraped his heart tender with each salty spray. His eyes opened but ached to close as a different slant of light trapped his attention, his focus drawn to a distant, wavering shimmer. A woman about his own age floated closer and kneeled beside him, her black wavy hair drifting all around like tendrils in an unsettled ocean. Leaning forward, her chilled fingers traced along his cheekbone as she whispered. "Don't be afraid, Blair. You must keep trying. Your sentinel is under attack and you are the one most feared. The thief tries to keep you separate. Get up and go to your partner, to the man you love. Do it now before you sink too far away. Even now I can barely reach you." 

The grumble of groaning puffed heat into his lungs as he found only enough energy to try breathing awhile longer. No voice came as he tried to form questions in a throat too challenged, too constricted and dry to make even a single protest or word. 

The pale blue lips curled up in a smile as she spoke without speaking. "You can stop the thief, but you have to believe, you have to get up and go now. You'll know what to do when you need to. Listen for my voice. Go to my sentinel's blood. Claim him before evil does." 

A loud crash of thunder rocked his ears to pain, the stabs into his brain as harsh as the spears gouging through his back and temples. Control returned slowly, the jerky slide to reflex uneven and expanding in circles, spirals up his spine into his neck as full light returned. Gradually, the ice faded, replaced by a scalding pain, his muscles cramping, his stomach kicking and punching in protest. 

Rolling over, he retched to the side, the bitter coffee like acid. Holding his burning gut, the terror of losing his friend gripped him harder than his own torture. Struggling to his feet, his forehead pounding, he stood long enough to keep the blackness back before grabbing up his keys and heading for the door. 

"Jesus, Jim. What's going on?" 

Blair shook his head as he turned out the light, trying desperately to remember what the hell just happened. 

* * *

Puking for a third time might work to settle his treacherous stomach, but he doubted it. Jim Ellison covered his mouth again as he fought down the urge to dry heave into the ocean. In all his years as a soldier or cop, nothing prepared him for seeing a man's body completely skinned. Like the other victims, the man died after the mutilations, not before. Round terror-glazed eyes stared up at him from the corpse, the whiteness a swirling center, a drawing force to a safe vacuum. 

"Jim, are you all right?" 

"Simon?" 

A hand guided him to a rail by the pier, the captain leaning in closer to speak over the rushing wind. "You look like you zoned for a minute. You okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine." 

"Really? The patrolman said you'd been sick a couple of times already." 

"I told you, I'm fine." Suddenly defensive, Jim turned away, staring out across the water, the wide greyness of it pulling at him. He hated open water, the vastness of it a threat, yet right then he wanted to jump in and hide in the foamy cushion. He pulled his collar up higher and stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, away from the cutting wind. 

"Jim, it's not a sin to get sick when you see something like this. You weren't feeling well anyway." 

"I've just never seen anything quite like that, Captain. Took me by surprise, that's all." Taking a few deep breaths, he met the dark eyes staring at him. "What?" 

"Sandburg called." 

"And?" 

"He was in some kind of panic. Said you were in danger and I needed to get to you until he got here." 

"What kind of danger?" 

"He didn't say, but he seemed damn sure. I mean, I try not to question this sentinel/guide thing too much, but he sounded really worried." 

Frowning, Jim glanced around, his senses stretched out to search for his guide. He heard the rattled sounds of his partner heading in his direction. Every vital sign raced beyond normal. "Damn it. He's here. Simon, he really doesn't need to see this, not with the way he's been acting lately." 

"Oh, my god!" Too late to stop him, he stepped close to where Blair stood by the body. "Jesus, Jim. This is crazy. Who's doing all this?" 

"That's what we're trying to find out. You want to tell me what's going on?" 

Blair shook his head and turned away, the paleness almost green beneath the wind-flushed cheeks. 

"Blair, where's your coat? You've got to be freezing out here." 

Ignoring his comments, the younger man stared at the naked corpse, his head shaking as he spoke. "I can't explain it. I just knew you were in trouble." 

"But I'm not, Chief. I'm fine. You're not though. Let me go get you a jacket or something." 

Grabbing Jim's arm, Blair's voice intensified, his words tight and direct. "Don't lie to me, man. You're not fine. You've been throwing up and tell me your head's not about to split." 

"How'd you know that?" 

"I can't explain it, but I know you're under some kind of attack. This whole series of killings is connected somehow to you and your senses." 

Jim studied the man, wondering when his guide had gone crazy when he wasn't looking. "Chief, that's nuts. The only connection to me is that this is my case." 

"Wrong. Look at the victims here. One lost his ears, another his nose and tongue, now the skin. The senses, Jim. I did a rundown on the first two men and discovered that each had special talents, heightened senses. Hell, they were on the list of case studies I'd read for my research. I just didn't make the connection before. I'll bet if we check this one out, there will be something like that, too. Whatever's doing the murders, wants those senses." 

"What the hell are you talking about? You can't get senses from killing somebody." 

Rubbing his forehead, Blair's other hand clutched his stomach. "Man, I have to sit down. I feel like shit here." Seriously concerned, his eyes squinted, Jim started him toward the railing. 

"Help me to the seat, man. I don't want to embarrass you by doing a header in public." 

One hand at his back, another on his arm, he supported him until the younger man slumped on the bench. "Put your head between your legs. You're going to pass out if you don't." 

"Shit." His head lowered, gulping for air, Blair's whole body shook. Jim took off his own black leather jacket and draped it over the slumped shoulders, wishing he could warm him in his arms instead. 

Rubbing his hand along Blair's back, he sensed the pounding heart thumping, the struggle of blood rushing through the narrowed veins. The tense muscles restricted the breathing as he grew even more clammy. 

Simon stepped over, looking first at Jim and then at Blair, the anxiety creasing his forehead. "You okay, Sandburg?" 

"Do I look okay?" 

"No, not really." Simon's eyes met sympathetic blue ones as Jim shrugged. "Sorry, kid. Look, why don't I have one of the men take you home? We'll bring your car back later." 

"No, way, man. Jim needs me." The words muffled by his awkward position changed when he finally sat up. "I was telling Jim that I think this guy is going after the senses on his victims. Somehow, for whatever crazy reason, he thinks killing them will give him their talents." 

"What talents?" 

"Simon, don't encourage him." 

Anger flushed Blair's face and strained his words, his voice loud and demanding as he stood up. "Listen to me, you stubborn son of a bitch, I know what I'm talking about here. This guy is coming after you next and if you don't believe that, we're both going to be killed." 

Simon glanced around nervously as Blair's wild words carried straight to the puzzled officers witnessing the scene. The young grad student's fame for calming down Jim's more aggressive behavior suddenly took a negative turn. "Settle down, Sandburg. Lower your voice. We need to talk about this, but not here." 

"I'm serious, Simon. You've got to help me convince him. He can't protect himself alone and I can't do this by myself, either. We've got to be a team." 

"A team against what, Chief?" The quiet question sounded louder than any of Blair's shouted pleas. 

The younger man stepped in close, his face raised to stare directly at his partner. "I don't know, Jim, but it's here. It's nearby scanning us. It knows about your senses. Man, can't you feel it?" 

"It?" 

Wetting dry lips, he turned away, his eyes squeezed shut, his face twisted with pain. Each word formed cost a terrific energy, each one more breathy as he spoke. "It, Jim. Something human, but not human. I can't explain it, but I just know we're in real danger. It knows about us." Lifting a hand to his forehead, he used the other to grab his partner's arm. "God, I think I'm going to be sick. 

This time Jim held him close, the spasms across the back bringing up nothing but bitter air expelled in tight heaving motions. He didn't give a shit what the other men thought about him touching his friend, didn't fucking care if they started rumors. Holding Blair, making him feel safe again, mattered more than anything else he could imagine. 

Gently he massaged the muscles, his voice soft. "Hang in there, Chief. It's okay. Just try to keep breathing." 

"Jim, take Sandburg home and stay there. I'm going to call the FBI in on this. I don't want to see you in the office until you hear from me, do you understand? Taggart and Brown can take over from here." 

"No way, Simon. I'll take Blair home, but then I'm coming back. This is my case, not anybody else's." 

"Jim, I know how you feel, but if there's even the smallest chance that the kid's right, we can't take a chance with your safety. I'll put a watch on your place while I do some more checking on the victims. I'll call you when I know more." 

Tilting his head, still holding the smaller body next to his own, he argued. "Simon, he's not well right now. I told you what's been going on. Pretending that this thing is supernatural isn't going to help solve the case or make Sandburg any better." 

"Jim, I didn't say I thought it was supernatural, but it qualifies as crazy. If there's some headcase out there trying to track down people with heightened senses, you'd sure as hell be on the top of my potential target list. Just let me check it out." 

"He's sick, Simon. None of this is real." 

Blair pulled away, the hurt mixed with anger swirling the blue eyes to swelling darkness. "You don't believe me. Damn it, Jim. Why's it so hard for you to believe when you're a sentinel for godsakes? I'm telling you there's something out here. If you try to beat it without accepting that, we'll both lose." 

"I believe you believe, Chief. That's all that matters." 

"Don't fucking patronize me, Jim. You've got to believe for real or we're going to lose here. You've got to trust me." 

Glancing over to Simon for some kind of urgent rescue, he turned back to find the younger man sitting back down, his hands on both temples. His whole face twisted in agony as he rocked back and forth, the low moan almost a whimper. 

"Blair?" 

"We're in big trouble, Jim. I think I'm going crazy." 

"You're just tired. It's going to be okay." 

"Man, she's screaming again. She keeps calling my name, but I don't know where she is." 

"Nobody screamed, Blair." 

"In my head, man. She's in my head and I'm really losing it here. I need to figure this out, but I can't hear all the words." 

A weight touched his arm, the gruff voice a soft whisper. "Take the kid home, Jim. Call me if you need me." 

"Thanks, Simon." 

Turning to Blair, he helped him up. "Come on, Chief. It's time you got some sleep. You're dead on your feet." 

"Don't joke, man. You don't even know the half of it." 

Guiding him to his truck, he watched in quiet frustration as the man he loved buckled himself up, crossed his arms, and then got even more quiet. The head leaned sideways to rest on frosted glass. Slow breathing marked the drop into slumber, the scary trip to the Sandburg zone once again. 

Jim started the engine and headed home, still stubbornly trying to push away the alarm that paralyzed his thinking, the horrifying images of his friend losing his battle to recognize reality from fantasy. He knew too well the yawning dread that swallowed a man who couldn't tell the difference, remembered his own depths of desperation before Blair. Shivering, he turned up the heater, his chill less from the cold than his own fear of failing his best friend and partner. 

* * *

"I'm sorry, Jim. I don't know what got into me. It was like I was saying stuff, but it wasn't me." Blair took the cup of hot tea and pulled the blanket up tighter around his neck. Still drained of its natural color, his face looked even more pale beneath the dark whiskers. "I'm sorry I embarrassed you like that." 

"Embarrassed me?" 

"Yeah, you know, hanging all over you like that in front of everybody. You know how the guys can be sometimes." 

Shaking his head, Jim took in the signs of embarrassment, the diverted eyes, the slight rise in body temperature. "Anyone said anything lately I should know about?" 

"No, but you know how it is. People talk about us because we live together. I just don't want it to be a hassle." 

"Don't worry about it then. Whatever they think is their problem. We've had this discussion before. I could give a shit what they think." 

"You say that, but I know it's still not easy, man. I've never been part of the inside group anyway and you're like pack leader right up there with Simon. I mean, I know some of the guys like me, but there's still that undercurrent. I can feel it, this whole negative energy thing. It's always been there, but for some reason lately, it's been worse. I'm sure today's little performance is not going to help my already strong macho image, huh?" He tried flashing a famous Sandburg smile, but only managed a weak grin. 

"You're exhausted. This whole case has been a strain on everybody and you haven't slept right for weeks now. I know what that kind of thing can do. It's hard to keep things in perspective. You start to imagine things." 

"I hope that's all it is, man, because I have to tell you, this is so not cool. I'm really scared." 

Jim settled beside his friend, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "What exactly are you afraid of, Blair?" 

Glancing up, frightened eyes shimmered in the low light of the loft. "I don't know. It's like I can't trust my own mind anymore." 

"You're not the only one who's ever felt that way. Before you showed up, when these senses were all haywire, I thought the same thing." 

"Yeah, but your problem was just physical. This is different." 

"I heard voices no one else did, smelled fumes no one else could. I saw crimes and license plates blocks away. I didn't know anything about being a sentinel. I just thought I'd pretty much lost my mind. I was afraid of what was happening and the more I tried to pretend I was okay, the worse I got. I swear, if you hadn't shown up, I'd probably be locked away somewhere drugged to the gills staring out a window drooling." 

Blair untucked his legs and put the cup on the table before standing and walking to lean against the wall. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Jim. I do. But trust me, this is different. I'm starting to get flashes of memories while I'm awake and what I'm getting is really hard to understand. I'm talking seriously spooky stuff here." 

"How can you be so sure it's not just sleep deprivation? Combine that with the stress of the case and all the other things going on, and you're suddenly having all these bad dreams. Why can't it just be a situation where they're spilling over into your daytime?" 

"Because this has happened before, man I just didn't remember it until we got home. When I was little, there was this dream I used to have about this lady who would come and talk to me in my sleep." 

Jim grinned and tilted his head. "How little?" 

"About nine was the first time. And don't make that face, Jim. It wasn't that kind of dream." 

Smile fading, he recognized the serious tone and dropped the attempt to lighten the moment. Blair needed an ear and no matter how outrageous the story, he needed to listen. "Okay, what happened with this lady in your dream?" 

"Her name was Claire and she's the one who first told me about the sentinels." 

A sudden chill washed through him, all along his skin down to his bones, slicking the fear with the slice of razors. Jim stayed quiet, watching his partner nervously run his hands through his hair as he started pacing. "She told me that I needed to look for a man who had the gift, that when I found him, I'd know and that when I grew up, it would be my job to protect him." 

"I thought I was the protector?" 

"Yeah, but I'm just telling you what she told me. This is so weird. I hadn't thought about Claire in ages, and here it is, it's like she never left. We would sit in this garden and she'd go on and on about how wonderful it was to be a shaman and a guide and that if I studied really hard, I'd be ready when it was time. God, she was beautiful, Jim. She had these gorgeous blue eyes and long black hair and dressed like a gypsy. Naomi used to laugh when I'd tell her about Claire, told me I was born with magic." 

"She was right." 

"I'm serious, Jim." 

"So, am I. So, how long did this thing go on when you were a kid?" 

"I don't know. A few months maybe. Then all of a sudden it stopped, and, man, I can remember being really sad and then pissed for awhile. I kept wondering what the hell I'd done to make her go away. Then when she came back later, when I started school, that's when she reminded me to keep training and that soon, I'd find you." 

"Me?" 

"Yeah, you, Jim. She didn't tell me your name, but you're the one I'm supposed to be with. I knew it the first time I saw you. We both know that this sentinel/guide thing is more than just a friendship. It's like this spiritual connection, and don't make that face when I use the "s" word either. It's spiritual and you know it." 

Jim shifted uncomfortably on the couch, his mind buzzing trying to process the words, the images and possibilities behind the revelations stinging and swelling his thoughts. 

"I didn't say anything, Chief. I mean, I can't really deny that this thing between us is different from anything else I've ever had. I'm just not ready to play that supernatural card yet. You know how I feel about that stuff." 

Coming to sit beside him, Jim immediately registered the heat, the thigh close to his own, the push of warm breath in his direction. 

"Jim, I know this stuff scares you. Normally, I'd be cool with it, because I'm used to thinking about things like this, but not this time. This is so not the same. The voice I'm hearing when I'm awake is in pain, like there's something really wrong, and the dreams are all blurred, like I just can't focus for some reason." 

"And you think this voice is somehow connected to your dreams as a kid? That it's all some big cosmic plan that you've got no clue about?" 

"I think that whatever's behind this murder spree is blocking it somehow, keeping Claire from telling me what I need to know." 

"You really believe that?" 

"Yeah, I do. Jim, I'm not crazy. I know something's trying damn hard to confuse me, to hammer me down. It's hard to put into words so you can understand, but usually when I think, I think really clearly, I mean, really sharp. Lately, I can barely concentrate, can't even see my own thoughts." 

"When did this all start?" 

"A few days before the first murder. Look, when you have your cop instinct kick in, you can't always explain why you believe what you believe, but you have to go with it, right?" 

"Where are you going with this?" 

"I'm asking you to trust me, Jim. Just consider the possibility that whatever's going on, it might not be as simple as a murder case." 

"I do trust you, but I'd trust your instincts more if you weren't running on empty in the sleep department." As Blair started to stand and walk away, his frustration coiling the compact body, Jim grabbed his arm and held him on the couch. "Wait. I'll make a deal. You try sleeping for awhile and when you wake up, we'll talk about all this again." 

"Then will you believe me?" 

"We'll talk and figure it out like we always do. I'm not dismissing you, Chief. I just need some time to get used to the idea. Now, why don't you try to get some sleep?" 

Biting his lower lip, his eyes closed, Blair finally nodded. "Okay, but, you're going to think I'm a wimp." 

"For sleeping?" 

"No, for asking you to stay with me. I don't think I trust myself to sleep alone right now." 

"No need to ask. I'll be right beside you." He raised a finger as the younger man started to speak. "In the chair, Chief. Now, do you want the sofa or the bed?" 

"The bed, man." 

"Good, now go take a hot shower and then I'll tuck you in." 

"Thanks, man." A grateful smile curled full lips as Blair stood up and walked down the hall. 

Sounds of disrobing soon followed by the blast of a shower stroked the growing arousal, his cock heavy with need. On the tip of his hungry tongue, Jim found himself wanting to apply a couple of different rhyming verbs while putting his friend to bed. Swallowing back his desire, he stood and went upstairs, the throb with each step near pain. He had to relieve the tension or he'd be useless in guarding the man he needed to protect. 

Alone, he unzipped and dropped his pants and boxers quickly before he lay curled on the bed, the knees drawn up. Visualizing the full lips, the sensuous mouth of his partner, he shuddered at the thrill of the man kneeling before him, nimble fingers teasing and rolling his sacs. A tongue flicked and licked at the tip, ran a slick stream along the edge. The delicious shiver clenched asscheeks, the sucking a primal force as the contrast between soft tissue and teeth tormented and nibbled, pained and pleasured the center of his new world. His own fist played the face he wanted to push into, the face of the man he loved. Pressure in his balls increased as he stroked, the hardness stuffing itself into his imaginary heaven, his partner's lips a focus, every crease and softness an ideal texture. Belly fire flashed up his spine as uncoiled heat arched him with an involuntary groan and the name of his partner. Paralyzed and helpless, he released the stress in spastic jerks, the warmth spraying in spurts across his hand. 

He only barely recognized the sharp intake of breath and the startled voice at the top of the stairs. "Jesus, Jim, I'm sorry." 

Keeping his eyes squeezed shut, Jim swallowed several times before he managed to speak. "About what, Chief?" 

The mattress sagged beside him and a tender hand touched his forehead, the fingers pure kisses to his sweaty skin. "I didn't know, man. Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Tell you what?" He refused to open his eyes, to face the humiliation. 

"This." Feathery at first, almost not there, lips lightly touched his. Then a full force captured his mouth, his breath stolen away as Blair's eager tongue pushed in, wrestling his own, pushing it down, claiming him. Arms wrapped his body closer to the man beside him, his cock touching bare skin. 

Blair pulled away as Jim opened his eyes to find his naked partner wrapping his leg up over his thigh as he pushed him on his back. "Chief?" 

A gentle hand caressed his face, a finger trailing down his cheekbone, the tips like tiny bites of pleasure marking his skin. "Yeah, Jim?" The second hand snaked down between their bodies, the touch a pure electric surge to his groin, the tired, just-used member fighting to return as Blair rubbed harder against him. "You okay with this?" 

Laughing, the smile wild, Blair's hard cock rocked into his thigh with a definite rhythm. "Don't I feel okay?" 

Breathing labored, his lungs traitors, he couldn't think, couldn't resist matching the motion to the pace Blair set. "You feel great, Chief. God, you feel wonderful." 

Running his hand through damp curls, reason vanished with the ether of connection, the musky scent of his guide's arousal mixed with his own filling his body with lust all over again. A mouth locked on his throat, the biting alternating with sucking paced and controlled by the man holding him, straddling his thighs. His shirt came off, his whole body exposed to slow exploration, thoroughly mapped and marked. Hands touched him, teased his nipples and ass, held his head as he quivered in surrender, lost and begging to be guided. 

His cock swelled to meet its neighbor, the wave crashing through him before he even recognized the huge rush. Scorching heat gripped him, surrounded his cock as Blair raised and settled, merging with him, taking him inside his own body. Eyelids fused to the light, the air too bright to see color, too intense to fit inside his brain. He pumped up and exploded again, this time his seed trapped inside another man, a man whose own release seized him and launched his soul into a swirling blackness, gone from everything but the shimmering face of his lover. 

Breathing, speaking, moving, all failed him as lay exhausted, Blair's body stretched over him like a blanket, the aftershocks sending tiny spasms clenching the ringed muscle of the younger man's ass. "God, Jim, I love you." The whispered confession still lingered in his ear like a blessing as Blair lifted and eased himself away and slid down to the bed. 

Turning on his side, he pulled Blair into his arms and kissed the swollen lips, his own sweaty scent lingering. "I love you, too, Chief." 

Snuggling closer, his eyes closed, the younger man reached down and pulled up the covers, his body heat trapped against Jim's. "I think I can sleep now. Thanks, man." 

"Anytime, Chief." 

"Promise?" 

"Well, except in front of an audience, but yeah, pretty much." 

A slight chuckle and a smile tickled his chest. "Deal." 

* * *

Sitting up carefully, Jim slid away from the still relaxed body. Blair's restful sleep pleased him, made him hope for an end to nightmares and fear plaguing them both. He pulled on his clothes quickly and headed downstairs, the need to relieve himself growing stronger. After a quick bathroom run and cleanup, he made coffee, and waited for Simon to call. 

His captain's arrival so late at night surprised him. He opened the door before the older man could knock. "Yeah, Simon, come on in." 

"I hate when you do that." 

"What?" 

"It still gets to me that you know I'm there before you should." Simon walked in and stood in the kitchen, his voice hushed. "So, how's Sandburg?" 

"Better, thanks. He's still sleeping. Want some coffee?" 

"Sure." Taking off his coat, he hung it on the hook by the door and leaned against the counter. He rubbed his huge hands together while he blew heat across them, the cold from the night still clinging to his body. "I'm glad." 

"Yeah, me, too." Jim got down the cups, waiting, recognizing the stall. 

"You're not going to believe what's turned up." 

"Try me." He stood at the corner, his arms wrapped around his chest, anxious. 

"Well, the kid was right. There was a connection. All the men killed took part in a study on heightened senses about five years ago. The government just apparently got around to releasing the information to the FBI and they passed it on to us. They hinted that the prime suspects would be an academic or someone who gave the tests." 

"Or someone involved in the study." 

"Yeah. We're on the same track. We got a list and ran it. There's another guy here in Cascade, a man named Arnold Swain. We ran a search on him. He's got no record, never been arrested. Not even a parking ticket." 

Jim poured the coffee and stepped to the refrigerator, opening the door for the cream. "That would explain why we couldn't get a match on fingerprints. Still, it's hard to believe if he's the guy, there's no mental illness in his background. I mean, how does a person just go that crazy so fast?" 

"It might not be him, but he does match a description from a witness at this last scene. I've sent Brown and Taggart to pick him up. I thought you might like to be in on the questioning." 

"Thanks. I'd like that, but I don't want to leave Blair alone here. When he wakes up, I'll bring him with me. He's got a big stake in this, too." 

"Sure. Might put his mind at ease if we find the person behind this." The sudden uneasiness translated to silence as the larger man drank slowly. 

"Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Are you sure he's okay? I mean, I've seen him wired before, but this was different. He really believed all that stuff he was saying." 

"I know, but he was right about the connection between the victims." 

"Still, the other part about being watched by something not human was strange. And then he started hearing a woman screaming in his head? I mean, sometimes I forget he's not a cop. This stuff is bound to get to a person when he's not used to it. Maybe he should see somebody." 

"I told you, he's fine now. 

"If you think he's okay, I'll trust your judgment. Just don't let being so close cloud your decision." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"It just means, that sometimes we don't see something right in front of us because it scares us. He's your best friend, Jim. If he's having problems, maybe you just don't want to see it." 

"I admitted it before." 

"I know, but he can be awfully convincing when he wants to be. Just keep your eyes open, that's all." 

"I will. He's my partner and I'll take care of him." 

Frowning, Simon poured himself more coffee and whitened it with cream, his eyes still labored with doubt. 

Disturbed, Jim drank slowly, the bitter heat hardly noticed as he heard his partner stir in the upstairs bed. Shit. "Uh, Simon, why don't you go on down to the station. As soon as Blair gets up, we'll come down." 

"What's wrong?" Simon keen eyes studied him, his Ellison experience too practiced. 

"Nothing. I just want to let him sleep as long as he can. We'll be down later." 

The mattress squeaked as Blair turned over above them, his low groan almost a plaintive song. Both heads turned to look up only briefly before brown eyes met blue. "Jim, I'm not going to even ask why the kid's in your bed. That's your business. I just hope you know what you're doing." 

Fighting back the blush, Jim averted his eyes, failing to cover his embarrassment at discovery. "I'm sorry, Simon. I didn't mean for you to find out this way. It only just happened." 

"When? This afternoon?" 

"Yeah, we were both tired." 

"Not tired enough." 

Jim's head came back up, his anger pushing the words. "What's that supposed to mean, Simon? You think I took advantage of him?" 

"No, I just think that you're moving into dangerous territory. That's nothing new for you, but it could be a problem and you know it. I don't have to tell you how things work, Jim. Personally, I hope it works out, but I'm not going to pretend I'm happy about it." 

"Well, at least you're honest." 

"Speaking of which, how are you going to play this thing out?" 

"Out being the operative word, right?" 

"Yeah." 

"We haven't really talked about it, but I figure I won't announce it, but I won't deny it either. It's nobody's business." 

Simon shook his head as he put down the mug. Lifting his coat from the rack, he pulled it on and buttoned up before he spoke again. "You're a cop, Jim, having an affair with his younger male partner. If certain people find out, they're going to make it their business. I'll support you, you know that. Just try to be careful. 

"I'm always careful, Simon." 

Fatigue squeezed his dark features, his voice tired, but still strong. "Jim, if that were true, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Glancing up, he motioned with his head to where Blair still tossed and turned on the verge of waking. "I'll see both of you later, and Jim?" 

"What?" 

"I really do hope it works out." 

"Thanks, Simon. I appreciate that. I'll be there as soon as I can." 

The captain opened the door, turning up his collar before leaving. "Yeah, well, let's just hope this Swain is our guy and we can end this nightmare." 

"I hear you, Captain." 

As soon as he shut the door, he headed up the stairs to sit on the edge of the bed, his senses tuned to the growing restlessness. Sweat plastered the dark curls around his lover's face, the flush of heat oiling the skin. Reaching out a hand, he touched the shoulder only to have his guide pull away, the throaty moan frightening. "Chief, wake up. Come on, Blair. You're dreaming." 

A few moments later, eyelids fluttered, and dark blue eyes took awhile to focus. His voice still drowsy, the words stumbled a little over the tongue. "Oh, man, I remember this time." 

"What?" 

A hand captured Jim's arm as Blair sat up, his other hand rubbing his eyes. "God, my head hurts, but at least it feels better, more clear." 

"Sleep will do that." 

"No, man, it's more than that. We're going to be okay." 

"What are you talking about?" 

The cover slipped down across his lap, but he pulled it up. The dark chest hair glistened with the sheen of sweat, each curly stand damp and appealing. Jim ran a finger from the hollow of his throat down between the nipples, the nubs growing harder before his very eyes. "You're beautiful, Chief. I don't think I've ever told you that." 

Flushing at the words, Jim registered the body heat against greedy fingertips. "Thanks, man. You're not exactly ugly yourself, but listen, Jim. I have to tell you what I dreamed." The quick smile faded, replaced by the strength and seriousness that created an inspiring vision from simple beauty. 

"Then tell me." 

"First, tell me about David Ellison." 

The sudden use of a name he'd forgotten brought his focus entirely on an image, the portrait of a man who died years ago. "He was my grandfather. He went missing in action during World War II. My dad never talked about him much. Why? How do you know that name?" 

"Claire told me." 

"Come on, Chief, don't start that again. Claire's a dream." 

"Yeah, she is, but she was also your grandfather's guide. She's been trying to warn me about waiting too long." 

"Waiting too long for what?" 

Another blush colored his skin all over, even his shoulders more pink. "To claim you." 

"Claim me?" Smiling again, this time Jim shifted to sit in the bed, bracing against the stack of pillows, pulling Blair's back to his chest. Resting his chin on thick curls, he whispered. "Oh, is that what they call it these days, claiming?" 

"Oh, man, this is going to sound crazy." 

"Too late. Might as well tell me the rest." 

Taking a deep breath, Blair spoke while he lazily petted the strong arm wrapping his chest. "She said that we were bonded, but I had to commit to the match by claiming you. It's what she did with your grandfather and why she could talk to me. She's in another world now, but we're connected somehow because you're the blood of her sentinel." 

He stiffened, the realization almost a crack of thunder. "That explains why my father never wanted me to let people know about my senses." 

"I don't know about that, but it makes sense." 

"But my grandmother's name was Mary, not Claire." 

"After he left his wife and went off to war, he met Claire in Germany. He never returned to America, but stayed in Europe and later India. He died there in the sixties and Claire died soon after. 

His grip tightened on the shoulders in his arms, the pain of belief too much. "He deserted his family. What the hell kind of man does that? He left my father." 

"He lived his life, Jim. Could he have survived as a sentinel here without a guide? Be honest." 

Shaking his head, still holding on to the man anchoring him from rocking away on his own doubt, he closed his eyes. "How do you know all this? It's just a dream, Chief. Just your imagination." 

"Is it? Jim, we can't always explain things as easily as collecting evidence at a crime scene. Claire's been guiding me so I can help you, so we can live our lives the way we're supposed to. Good and evil, they exist man. In people, in spirit, in ways we can't explain or imagine. Being together protects us. That's what she's been trying to tell me all along." 

"You're still losing me here." 

"As long as we weren't really together, completely committed, evil could step in and attack each of us individually. Don't you feel the difference? I can think again, the darkness is gone." 

"And this isn't just because you just got laid and managed to sleep six straight hours for the first time in weeks? Come on, Chief. It was a dream." 

Turning in his arms, Blair met his gaze with a stubbornness that even he couldn't match. "I didn't get laid, man. You did." Taking a deep breath, his fingers playing with the button on his shirt, Blair's voice softened. "I love you, man. When I saw you lying here, making out by yourself calling my name, it was so hot and sad, too. I mean, how long have we both been pretending?" 

Hugging him closer, Jim found his voice resistant to speaking. Words never came easily, but he struggled to find the right ones at that moment, to tell what he most feared to say. "At first I thought it was just physical. You really don't know how beautiful you are, but it's more than that now. I've been attracted to men before, but never really did anything but a few mutual handjobs. With you, it's totally different. With you, it's love." 

"So, why not say anything?" 

"Fear. I knew you were my friend, but I wasn't sure what that meant. I didn't want to risk it. Can you understand that?" 

"Hell, I wrote a whole paper on it." Grinning, he rubbed his forehead across Jim's shirt, his hands stroking the hardened nipples through the cloth. "I hope you're not afraid anymore." 

"No, I can safely say, fear's not what I'm feeling." He captured the wayward hand as it headed south. Kissing the uplifted palm, he drank in the rich scent of his lover's salty musk. "We need to get cleaned up and dressed, Chief. Simon was here earlier and we've got the prime suspect downtown." 

Sitting up straight, leaving his hand in Jim's, Blair spoke quietly. "The evil's moved on then." 

"Chief, come on, stop that. The evil's a man. If this isn't the one, we'll find him now that we know the connection." 

Sad eyes glanced up, the blue rings dark azure. "You still don't believe me. God, Jim, what's it going to take?" 

"A lock and key and a hanging judge. The killer's human, not some demon." 

"Shit." Blair turned away, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. "This isn't a joke. This time we're okay, but if you're too narrow to think it's possible to be a target, then we're vulnerable." 

"I'm sorry, Chief. I'm just not ready to believe in the exorcist, okay?" 

"No, not okay. This thing is real, man." 

"Because some woman in a dream says so?" 

"Some woman who risked pain and suffering like you wouldn't believe to warn me, man. There's so much I don't understand, but I do know that our greatest danger isn't going to come from some street thug. It's going to come from some other place. You can't fight what you don't believe in." 

"Then believe for me." 

"What?" Blair turned back around to face him, his stunned face surrounded by a wild halo of curls. 

"I have trouble believing what's before my very eyes sometimes, you know that. But I trust you. If you say it's so, then I believe in your faith." 

"You trust me like that?" 

"Completely." 

Blair climbed back into bed, cuddling up to Jim's larger body, the heat radiating comfort. "I love you, Jim. I won't fail you." 

"I know that. I love you, too." 

A deep sigh feathered the skin on his arm as Blair spoke, his voice husky with want. "You think Simon would mind if we were just a little late? You willing to chance it?" 

"Sounds like a plan. You think I could take a turn at this claiming thing?" 

"Oh, man, you've done that a thousand times already." 

"Damn, and I missed it?" 

A firm hand caressed his cheek as a kiss touched his lips, the tongue meeting his, insistent. Pulling back for just a moment, Blair whispered, "Not anymore, Jim. I'm awake, but the dream's just beginning." 

Hugging him close, his guide's words tempered the wave of panic. With the sudden awareness that he might be able to believe after all, his wavering faith grew more solid, the proof and shield he held in his arms calling him to witness the strength of the bond between them. 

* * *

THE END

 


End file.
